Kenji woke up at 7:14 a.m., without needing an alarm.
It was a habit he had kept from the trip — waking up precisely at the time he had set for himself, never oversleeping. He lay still for a moment in his bed, looking at the familiar ceiling of his room in Fukuoka. The morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and golden.
'I'm home,' he thought. 'Really home.'
He got up, dressed quietly. Clean shirt, simple pants. Nothing too formal — it was only Yuki and Toru, after all. But he wanted to look presentable.
On his desk, the gifts were carefully prepared. He had wrapped them the night before, with his mother's help, who had laughed at seeing him so meticulous.
"They're for Yuki and Toru," he had explained, embarrassed.
"I know, sweetheart. It's cute."
He had blushed but said nothing.
At 8:45 a.m., Kenji was in the living room, sitting on the couch, the gifts lined up on the coffee table in front of him. He looked at the front door every thirty seconds.
Daichi, sprawled in the armchair across from him, watched him with a mocking smile. "Are you nervous?"
"No."
"You've looked at the door twelve times in five minutes."
Kenji turned to him. "You're counting?"
"You're the one who taught me to observe." Daichi got up and came to sit next to him. "They're going to like your gifts, don't worry."
"I'm not worried."
"You're fidgeting with the hem of your shirt."
Kenji looked down. He had indeed been crumpling the hem of his t-shirt between his fingers without realizing it. He smoothed the fabric.
"That's nervousness," said Daichi.
Kenji didn't answer.
The doorbell rang at exactly 9:00 a.m.
Yuki entered first, her tight pigtails bouncing on her shoulders. Behind her, Toru followed, visible for once — her short hair neatly styled, a shy smile on her lips.
"Kenji!" Yuki stopped in front of him, eyes shining. "You're back!"
"Yes." He tilted his head, that small gesture he had. "I'm back."
They stood frozen for a moment, then Yuki threw herself into his arms. Kenji stiffened for a second, surprised, then his arms rose and he hugged her back — awkwardly, but sincerely.
Toru watched them, a discreet smile on her lips. When Yuki pulled back, she approached in turn and gave Kenji a small pat on the shoulder.
"Glad you're back," she said.
"Me too."
Daichi, observing the scene from the couch, raised his hand. "Hey, I'm glad you're here too!"
Yuki laughed. "You, you're always here."
"That's true."
They all settled in the living room. Kenji's mother brought juice and small cakes, then left them alone with a knowing smile.
Kenji took a deep breath. "I have things for you."
Yuki sat up, eyes wide. "Presents?"
"Yes."
He grabbed the first package — a small paper bag carefully closed — and handed it to Yuki.
"For you."
Yuki opened it carefully, as if handling a treasure. Inside, there were several small transparent bags containing seeds, each labeled with neat handwriting.
"Umbrella pine seeds — Rome," she read aloud. "Cypress seeds — Florence. Olive seeds — Tuscany. Sunflower seeds — Spain." She looked up, tears in her eyes. "Kenji..."
"I took them from special places," he explained, his voice a little embarrassed. "Near monuments, in gardens, in fields. I thought you'd like to grow them here."
Yuki clutched the bags against her. "It's the most beautiful gift in the world."
Kenji smiled — a real smile, discreet but sincere. "There's something else."
He handed her a second package, flatter. Yuki opened it and took out several photos, each carefully protected in a plastic sleeve.
"That's... that's you in front of the Colosseum?"
"Yes. And there, that's me in front of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. There, in Venice. There, in Barcelona."
Yuki looked at each photo with wide eyes. "They're beautiful."
"On the back, there are dates. And small notes."
Yuki turned a photo over. On the back, Kenji's fine handwriting said: In front of the Colosseum. The place where I thought of your seed.
She couldn't hold back her tears any longer.
Toru watched the scene smiling, but Kenji saw her fingers discreetly tapping on her thigh — that nervous gesture she had.
He turned to her. "Toru. I also have things for you."
She looked up, surprised. "For me?"
"For you."
He handed her a first package, rectangular, carefully wrapped in blue paper. Toru opened it cautiously, revealing a dark wooden box, nicely crafted.
"It's..." She opened the box. Inside, on a bed of black velvet, rested a small notebook with a soft leather cover, and a drawing case.
"I found it in a small shop in London," Kenji explained. "The lady who ran it told me it was a sketchbook. I know you love to draw..."
Toru took out the notebook carefully. It was indeed different from ordinary notebooks — smaller, thicker.
"I thought it might help you," Kenji continued, a little embarrassed. "For your drawings and sketches. Keep drawing, you're good at it."
Toru looked at him, eyes shining. "Kenji..."
"There's something else."
He handed her a second package, smaller. Toru opened it and took out a fine silver chain, with a pendant shaped like a small shield.
"It's a good luck charm," said Kenji. "I found it in a shop near the British Museum. The woman told me it was a symbol of protection. I thought it would suit you."
Toru held the pendant in her hand, turning it over to see the details — the shield was finely engraved, with almost invisible patterns.
"It's beautiful," she murmured.
"You don't have to wear it all the time," Kenji added. "But I thought that... well."
Toru looked at him for a long moment. Then she put the chain around her neck. The small shield rested against her chest, discreet but present.
"I'll wear it," she said simply.
Kenji nodded, cheeks slightly pink.
Then he took out a larger folder, which contained several photos.
"These are for both of you," he said.
He spread the photos on the table. Signed portraits, each with a personal note written in the corner.
There was Il Toro Nero, with his piercing gaze and lopsided smile, and a dedication in Italian that Kenji had translated: To Yuki and Toru, Kenji's friends. Keep growing. — Valerio.
There was Il Cavaliere, colder but just as impressive, with a precise, almost meticulous dedication: Precision is the key to everything. Remember that. — Leone.
There was Leonidas, the Italian number one, with his majestic aura and a simple note: Believe in yourselves. — Alessandro.
There was Carol Danvers — Solarflare — with her radiant smile and a warm dedication: To Yuki and Toru, Kenji's friends. Keep moving forward, you'll end up succeeding. — Carol.
And finally, there was a photo of Queen Victoria II, smiling, with an official yet personal dedication: For the young girls who dream of greatness. — Victoria R.
Yuki and Toru stared at the photos, mouths agape.
"You... you met the QUEEN?" Toru breathed.
"Yes. She's nice. She told me wisdom is built."
"And Solarflare? And Leonidas? And all those heroes?"
"I told you. In the messages."
"It's not the same seeing the photos!" Yuki took each signed photo, turning them between her fingers with almost religious reverence. "They're real. They're REAL."
Toru, meanwhile, looked at the photo of Carol Danvers. "You'll end up succeeding!" she read aloud. "Do you think she really means it?"
Kenji nodded. "She doesn't say things she doesn't mean. I saw her. She's like that."
Toru clutched the photo against her.
There were also more classic souvenirs — magnets, postcards, small typical items from each country. Yuki received a small Spanish pinwheel and a miniature gondola from Venice. Toru received a small Italian music box and a London Eye keychain.
"I also brought you back some things to eat," said Kenji, pulling out a larger bag. "Chocolates from Belgium — well, we stopped at the airport. And Italian candies. And English tea."
Yuki opened a package of candies and immediately popped one into her mouth. "It's GOOD!"
Toru laughed. "You're worse than Daichi."
"Hey!" Daichi protested from the couch. "I'm not worse than everyone!"
"Yeah, a little."
Kenji watched his friends laugh, open gifts, exclaim over each small object. A gentle warmth settled in his chest.
'It's good,' he thought. 'Really good.'
Around noon, Yuki and Toru had to go home for lunch. The goodbyes were less sad than expected — they would come back tomorrow, and the day after, and every day, like before.
At the door, Yuki turned back one last time. "Thank you for the seeds, Kenji. I'm going to plant them all. I'll show you when they've grown."
"I'll wait."
Toru touched the small shield around her neck. "Thank you. For the notebook, for the necklace. For everything."
Kenji nodded, that small gesture he had. "See you tomorrow."
"See you tomorrow."
The door closed. Kenji stayed for a moment in the entrance, listening to their footsteps fade away.
Daichi came to stand next to him. "You were cute."
"I wasn't cute. I gave gifts."
"It's the same."
Kenji didn't answer, but he was smiling.
In the afternoon, at 3:45 p.m., Kenji took his bag and said to his mother: "I'm going to Bishop's."
"Do you want me to come with you?"
"No, I know the way."
It was true. For three years, he had made this trip two to three times a week. The streets of Fukuoka had become as familiar to him as his own room.
He walked at a steady pace, observing people, the discreet Alters, the life of the city continuing.
'This is my home,' he thought. 'This is here.'
Bishop's house was small, discreet, nestled at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac. A tiny garden, a wooden door, a window where a light was always on.
Kenji knocked three times — their signal.
The door opened almost immediately.
Lucas Bishop stood on the threshold, massive, his scars crossing his face like rivers on a map. He looked Kenji up and down, and a smile — rare, precious — crossed his lips.
"There you are."
"Here I am."
Bishop stepped aside to let him in. The inside smelled of tea and old paper — Bishop read a lot too.
"Sit down. Tell me everything."
Kenji sat on the worn couch, Bishop in his favorite armchair. He told him everything. Italy, the heroes, grandmother's library, Spain, England, the Queen, Carol Danvers.
Bishop listened in silence, sometimes nodding, asking a question now and then.
When Kenji mentioned Carol, Bishop had a nostalgic smile. "Solarflare. Is she well?"
"She told me you fought together. Against an international threat."
"It's true. She's strong. Stronger than me." Bishop looked at him. "She offered to train with her?"
"Yes. Someday."
"You should accept, when you're ready. She has things to teach you that I can't."
Kenji nodded.
Then he recounted the attempt with light. The failure. The small spark.
"You tried to absorb light?"
"Yes. I can't do it. Carol told me to start by feeling it, before catching it."
Bishop nodded, approving. "She's right. Light is different. More subtle. It takes patience."
Kenji sighed. "Am I impatient?"
"Yes." Bishop stood up. "Come outside. I have an exercise for you."
They went out into the tiny garden. Bishop pointed to a small tree near the fence.
"Close your eyes. Focus on the tree. But not to absorb. To feel."
Kenji obeyed. He closed his eyes, extended his perception.
"What do you feel?" asked Bishop.
Kenji was silent for a moment. "The warmth of the sun on the leaves. A tiny vibration... the sap circulating, maybe."
"Keep going. Deeper."
Kenji concentrated harder. He felt the infinitesimal movements of air around the branches, the coolness of the shade, the slight temperature difference between the trunk and the leaves.
"I feel... the energy of the tree. Not to absorb it. Just... its presence."
Bishop approved. "That's it. Perceive without absorbing. That's the basis of what you'll need to master for light. And for the next stage of your training."
They went back inside. Bishop took out a small metal bowl and placed it on the table.
"Now, focus on this bowl. But this time, I want you to try to feel something else. Not its temperature. Not the air vibrations around it. But... the space it occupies. The way it displaces air, the way it interacts with the environment."
Kenji frowned. "The space it occupies?"
"Energy isn't just heat or electricity, Kenji. It's also the relationship between objects. Their presence. Their potential." Bishop leaned back in his armchair. "An object at rest contains potential energy. An object in motion contains kinetic energy. But between the two, there's a whole spectrum you haven't explored yet."
Kenji looked at the bowl, concentrated. He felt its ambient temperature, the tiny air vibrations. But nothing else.
"I feel... nothing," he murmured, a little disappointed at failing.
Bishop smiled. "It will come with time. Trying and failing repeatedly is the first step that leads to success."
Bishop spoke again. "While you were away, I thought about the next phase of your training."
Kenji straightened up, attentive.
"You've mastered the basics. Absorption. Conversion. Amplification. Perception." Bishop paused. "It's time to address a new ability."
"Which one?"
"Ergo-Telekinesis."
Kenji blinked. "What is it?"
"The ability to manipulate the energy you've absorbed to influence the surrounding matter. Not by releasing it as an attack — by using it to move, shape, transform objects around you."
Bishop took a small book from the shelf and placed it on the table.
"Suppose you've absorbed kinetic energy. You could release it not as an impact, but as a controlled push. Move this book without touching it. Make it levitate. Make it spin."
Kenji looked at the book, fascinated. "Like telekinesis?"
"Not quite. Pure telekinesis is an Alter in itself. You, you use the energy you've absorbed as an intermediary. It's more limited — you can only act as long as you have energy in reserve. But it's also more powerful, because you can amplify that energy before using it."
Kenji was thinking, his mind racing. 'Move objects without touching them. With the energy I absorb.'
"Is it difficult?" he asked.
"Very. It requires extreme precision. Perfect control of release. You have to learn to mold energy like clay, not just release it." Bishop looked at him. "But I think you can do it."
Kenji felt a wave of excitement. "When do we start?"
Bishop smiled — a real smile, rare. "Tomorrow. Today, we'll just talk about the theory."
For the next hour, Bishop explained the basics. How energy could be structured to create temporary force fields. The relationship between the amount of energy and the movable mass. The importance of visualization — seeing the object move in your mind before it actually moves.
Kenji listened, took notes in his notebook, asked precise questions. His head was spinning, but it was a good tiredness — that of learning.
At the end, Bishop said: "You're going to need a lot of training. Hours and hours. But I believe this ability will be useful to you. More than direct attacks, perhaps."
"Why?"
"Because you're not a fighter, Kenji. You're a strategist. An observer. Ergo-Telekinesis will allow you to act on the environment, create opportunities, protect, destabilize. It's a support power, a control power."
Kenji nodded. 'A support power. Control power.'
He liked that idea.
On the way back, Kenji thought about everything Bishop had said. Light, Ergo-Telekinesis, perception of subtle fields. He had so much to learn, so much progress to make.
But for the first time, it didn't scare him. It was exciting.
He passed by the park where he often played with Yuki and Toru. Past the quiet street. Past the school, empty at this hour.
'I'm home,' he thought.
That evening, in his room, he opened his notebook and wrote:
Day 1 after the return
Yuki and Toru came this morning. They liked the gifts. Yuki cried over the seeds. Toru put on the pendant. The signed photos made them overjoyed.
Bishop told me about a new ability: Ergo-Telekinesis. Manipulating matter with absorbed energy. It seems difficult. But I want to learn.
We worked on perceiving subtle fields. Feeling the space objects occupy, their interaction with ambient energy. It's strange, but fascinating.
Light, I still can't absorb it. But I felt the presence of a tree, the circulation of its sap.
Tomorrow, training resumes. And life too.
I'm tired. But happy. Really happy.
He closed the notebook and looked out the window.